Clint Barton and the Land of Dreams
by BlackHawkRider
Summary: So a little idea for a Percy Jackson and Avengers (Clintasha) crossover came to me one night. Let's see where it goes! Clint Barton finds himself in the world of Greek Mythology. He meets some unexpected friends along the way and finds out that even the best of dreams aren't really what they seem.
1. I write my own Death Sentence

If you are reading this because you want a funny story with a happy ending, then stop. Turn around and put this book right back on whatever dusty shelf you got it from. There is a reason it was there in the first place, untouched and abandoned. Because I can't promise you a happy ending and my story is far from funny. Sure, there are moments to reflect and laugh on, moments that are lighthearted end enjoyable, but they are fleeting. This book is about my trials, about the life and death of those I cared for, and everything in between. It is about my life; about everything I've seen in the short time I've been alive. This book is about what happens when the stories you read as a child come to life and draw you into them.

My name is Clint Barton. I am fifteen years old, and let me start my story by saying I don't have a home. I'm not homeless, I just choose to pick my own home. I've never been able to stay in one spot for very long. As a kid I would run away from foster homes every time the opportunity presented itself. You're probably assuming my parents are dead at this point. They are. Sounds harsh, huh? That's life. I hope you haven't gotten the wrong impression about me already; I'm not a troubled kid. I'm not a dick. I am not violent, unruly, or uncooperative like a lot of orphaned kids. I just don't like being pinned down in one spot and I don't believe in sugar coat things. I don't like for people to know my secrets. I don't like to get to know people; I don't want someone to be able to manipulate my own emotions and thoughts against me. That is fair, right?

So as I sit here, as I begin writing out my story for you, I have to wonder: W _hy?_ Why am I doing this? If I write this, everyone will know my secrets, everyone will know who I care about, what my story is, where I have been and where I will go. It could prove to be dangerous to me, even deadly. But I feel the need to write it, maybe because I don't know about the unknown; I don't know what will happen to me in the coming times. I don't know if I will have a chance to tell my story again. And that thought scares me. Because if I died right now, only a handful of people would even remember my name and face. And once they passed on...my memory would be gone. I want the world to know who I am. Who I really am. Not who I used to be. I need them to know what I have done for them. Not because I want fame or fortune, but because I want them to be prepared. Because I want kids like me to have a chance in this hell on earth. Because there is one thing I can promise you: there is far more terrible times coming.

My name is Clint Barton, and this is my story.


	2. My life is like a Circus

Nature is my favorite sound. The best sound is no sound, and there was no noise around me except the soothing sound of the nature; the gentle swaying of the grass, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of birds. There were no voices to distract my mind, no cars or engines to ruin the peace. I was alone, and alone is my favorite state of being. When I was alone there was no one to fight or defend myself from. There was no one to hide from and avoid conversations with. I wouldn't say people went out of their way to target me, but something about me seemed to make them want to try their hand against me. I often found myself wishing I was a boring person, the type of person that someone could walk by and never realize that they were even there.

My fingers absently plucked at my bow string as I thought and its familiar hum reached my ears. It was like talking to a friend after you hadn't seen them for a while- it was satisfying, fulfilling. At this point in my life my bow was an extension of my body, like a third limb. I used it without thinking. Whenever I needed to call upon its skill it just happened without any effort. My arrows found their mark every time. You're probably thinking that I am a hunter, but your wrong. No, I am a performer. I am-

An arrow pierced though my thoughts and lodged itself next to my right boot, quivering in the ground. I raised my eyes in alarm, my body tensing as I prepared to launch a counter attack. I raised my bow and notched an arrow in a split second, my eyes sweeping the hills as I looked for my target. I finally spied the man that was standing on the crest of the hill, his bow hung casually by his side. My alarm dissipated and was replaced by a sense annoyance. Why would he come all the way out here to bother me? Why disturb my few moments of peace?

"You could have shot me. Or I could have shot you." I scowled, trying to sound more annoyed than I really was as the tall grey headed man began strolling towards me. He pace was leisurely and relaxed, the corners of his mouth turned up in a rare smile. He obviously was not concerned about my threat.

"Guess I could've...if I had really wanted to." He had a southern drawl and spoke slowly, as if he was in no rush to let the world know what he had to say. He came to a stop a few feet in front of me and scanned the area, nodding in approval. "Nice place you picked this time...been hunting?" He eyed my bow and quiver.

"No. Well, not animals at least. Just trying to track down all of my thoughts today." I pushed myself to my feet and hung my bow over my shoulder before stretching. How long had I been out here? My body was already stiff. I did that sometimes; I'd get to thinking and before I knew it hours had passed.

"Three hours until show time." He squinted at this sun. "Just makin' sure you hadn't shot yourself. It'd be hard to find a replacement on such short notice."

"Please," I snorted. "That would be an impressive trick."

"You're the trick master...right? If anyone could do it, it would be you."

"Gee, thanks, I am so flattered." I rolled my eyes. "I haven't shot myself, so don't worry your pretty little head off. Feel free to head back now."

"You should probably head back too. You need to get changed."

"You said it yourself- three hours until show time. It takes me maybe five minutes to change." I crossed my arms and shifted my weight, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my back. It had been cloudy for the last several days and it was cramping my style. I was a sun type of person; I loved the sunny and the heat its rays brought.

"You'll need to warm up." He shuffled and cleared his throat, like he had something to say but wasn't sure how to say it.

"That's cute." I half chuckled, wondering how long we were going to dance around the issue at hand.

"Cocky bastard."

"I learned from the best." I gave him a cheeky grin and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Come on Buck, come clean. Why are you really out here? Did you need a few pointers before the show?"

"Arrogant little-" He trailed off in a grumble. "I, uh, saw you take off after Cannon was giving you a hard time. You've been gone for quite a while. I just wanted to..." His sentence trailed off again and he scratched his head.

"Ah, checking up on me?" I withdrew my arm and stared at the man in front of me, trying to decide how I should feel about that.

You see, Buck "Trickshot" Chisholm was a bastard and a mean old cuss. He was a perfectionist and was obsessed with success; it didn't leave room for much else in his life. Every stunt had to be bigger and better than the last. He led our group of about twenty men-give or take a few depending on his mood- without mercy. If you messed up once during a job you were out. Didn't matter where we were or who you were, you were on your own if you screwed up. There were no second tries, no chance to redeem yourself. If you were lucky he might give you a lift back to the nearest town. Or he might just leave you high and dry. Buck demanded that we be perfect. In his defense, you had to be in our line of business. There was no room for mistakes. But, all that being said, Buck seemed to care about those who were most loyal to him, the ones who never messed up, who knew the game. And I just happened to be one of those people.

Geez, I've made it sound like we are in the Mafia or something. That is cute. It is almost funny. That would imply that we had money, or power, or both. But that is as far from the truth as you can get. We barely have enough money to scrape by on a day to day basis. We are lucky if we make it to the next town without having to perform side jobs for gas. And power? We were a laughing stock. Because we...we are the circus. Bum, bum, bummmm! Anti-climactic, right? I know. Story of my life. But back to the problem at hand: Buck caring.

"Are you going soft in your own age?" I decided to tease it off since I wasn't sure how to handle the situation any better than he did. That's what happens when you live with a bunch of homeless guys.

"Hardly." He grunted. "I can't afford to lose your talented little ass. Cannon on the other hand is only good for one thing- blasting himself out of that stupid cannon. Lord knows the boy can't use his brain any better than he can his hands. We can find another idiot in any old town." He had a point there- Cannon was a walking hunk of meat. It was no surprise that his parents abandoned him as a kid. I know that is harsh, but I seriously can't stand that guy. I decided to dismiss the whole thing with a wave. While Cannon was a pain in the butt, he was the only one of us that was stupid enough to blow himself around, and that was a big part of the act. No one else would volunteer for his job if Buck gave him to boot.

"I'll be fine Buck. Shouldn't _you_ be warming up?" I goaded.

"You think that _I_ need to warm up?" He made a face, as if the idea repulsed him. "Now _that_ is funny." We shared a smile and I couldn't help but feel a little satisfied that this old man cared about me. I could count on one hand the number of people who cared for me, and I didn't even need all five fingers. Sad, huh?

My parents had died when I was young. I don't remember how and I don't really remember when. I just know that all of my memories are based around my foster home days. I had an older brother named Bucky that I used to get kicked around with. The two of us together was trouble- we were like two opposing forces, like the Romans and the Greeks. The only thing that we could ever seem to agree upon was the memories of our mother. The stories about our fathers never matched up and often led to bickering. Bickering lead to fighting, and fighting led to us being split up. I guess I missed him at first-he was my last tie to any family I had- but then my survival instincts took over. As a young boy alone in the foster care system I was drug all over the place and abused in all kinds of ways. I tolerated it for years, but when I was eleven something inside of me snapped. One night a man took my beating just a little too far. I was eleven years old at the time. He had tried to hit me across the face with his belt, but I had caught it. I had jerked it away from him and kneed him in the balls. While he was down I broke his nose and then made a run for it. I hadn't planned on running away, it just happened.

So there I was, eleven years old and alone on the streets. Most kids would have been caught by the system or died, but I caught on quick. I learned who to avoid and who to ask for help, not that I did that often. I found out where the safest spots to sleep were, where the best places to scrounge for left overs were. I would occasionally "perform" for the crowds and earn a few bucks here and there. But the thing that kept me alive was scavenging. I could always find food and I knew exactly where to look for change. I kept myself alive, I kept myself fed, and I learned to trust no one. I was on top of my game. And then one day everything changed. My mind wandered back to that day and it was like I was watching an old film unfold in front of me.

 _I was hanging out in an alley one afternoon waiting for the bus to pick up some older people. They almost always left change behind and I was in the mood for something more than leftovers from a garbage can. I was throwing rocks at a tin can, trying to kill time, trying not to look too suspicious. The can was nearly one hundred yards from me and I was pegging it every single time. I became engrossed in the game as I began trying to make the rocks land in the can instead of just hitting it. I stopped paying attention and I broke the number one rule of the streets: always pay attention. A hand clamped down on my shoulder and I scrambled to my feet trying to pull away, but my attacker had a grip of iron. I considered screaming, but who would come to my aid? In this town homeless people were worse than the plague- you didn't want to be seen anywhere near them. I stopped struggling, my brain racing as I tried to find a way out of my current situation._

 _"You've got a good aim for such a young man."_

 _"Let me go!" I tried to jerk away and he let me this time. I should've ran, but instead I turned to face my attacker. He was grinning at me as he crossed his arms, waiting to see what I would do. "What do you want?" I tried to sound intimidating, which doesn't work for a twelve-year old boy by the way._

 _"Nothing really. I just noticed you were a good shot, that's all." He shrugged, looking innocent enough, but I could see in his eyes that there was a deeper motive there. He seemed to be asking a question with his face, but it wasn't directed at me. I cast a glance over my shoulder, expecting to find someone else lying in wait so that they could mug me, but nothing was there...just an out of place shadow. I scowled, trying to make sense of that, but my attention was directed back towards the man as he spoke. "You're homeless, huh?"_

 _"What's it to ya?" My defenses went up. That was never a safe question. That always lead to trouble._

 _"Not a dang thing. I just know a homeless person when I see one. I'm a straggler myself." He definitely looked like a homeless person, even smelled like one, but I knew he wasn't from around here; I knew every hobo in this parts._

 _"You're not from around here?" For some reason I felt the need to get information from him, as if some divine force was driving my questions._

 _"No, I'm not. I'm from everywhere really."_

 _"You do a lot of traveling then?" I knew a few people who made rounds all throughout the year. They hated staying in one city, they hated for their face to be burnt into people's memories._

 _"You're a smart kid. The name is Buck." He nodded, as if he approved of me. He stuck his hand out and I shook my head._

 _"Thanks, but no thanks."_

 _"That's cool. Like I said, you're smart. I'll cut to the chase-"_

 _"You want all of my belongings? Because what you see is what you get. And trust me mister, you don't want my socks. They reek." I could always fall back on my sense of humor. Who would pummel a funny little boy? The answer is every scum bag in the city._

 _"So cynical for someone so young." He chuckled. "I like it. To answer your question, no, I don't want your smelly socks." There was a hint of amusement on his face, but his eyes were still hard and judgmental. He had the kid of eyes that made you feel like you were always messing up._

 _"What do you want then?" I unfolded my arms, deciding that he wasn't an immediate threat. If he wanted to pummel me he could have done it already. I stooped to pick up another rock and tossed it down the alley without really aiming. Sure enough it pinged off the can and he raised his eye brows._

 _"That. I want that."_

 _"A rusty old can?" I scrunched my forehead. There were a ton of those lying around._

 _"No, I want your accuracy."_

 _"What's that supposed to mean?"_

 _"Let me explain-"_

 _"Might as well." I shrugged, trying to seem bored, but I was interested now._

 _"My name is Buck Chisholm. I run the traveling group, the Traveling Bandits. We have around 20 people or so, and we travel the country side performing wherever the wind blows us. I just happen to be looking for a new recruit."_

 _"So, what? You want me to be a clown in your circus?"_

 _"Bah!" He snorted. "We are hardly your typical circus. I pride my show on entertainment of a different variety. Tricks, impressive skills, crazy stunts. The unusual!" He was getting excited now. "I myself specialize in archery. They call me the "Trick Shot!"" He mimicked shooting a bow and then wild applause- I could tell that he was a showman. "I am a master, and every master needs an apprentice. It is a lot of work for one person to be so good. I had someone learning under me...but his last performance was less than stellar. He had to go."_

 _"You fired him over one show?"_

 _"I run a tight shift."_

 _"So you want to exploit my talents?"_

 _"Essentially." He smiled. At least he was honest._

 _"What's in it for me?"_

 _"A place to eat and sleep. People to watch your back. A little fame, even less fortune, and a chance to learn a dying art. But only if you are good."_

 _I thought about what he said, and about the last year of my life. I had been running so much, been living off of chances and flukes. What would it be like to have a bed? To have a guaranteed meal? To have people I could depend on? For some reason I thought about what my mother would want me to do. It's not like I had a lot of memories of her, but something told me that she'd rather have me be a clown than a hobo. And that was enough to seal the deal. "Buck," I offered him my hand. "I'm in."_

Looking back on it I can't believe how stupid I was for letting a strange man lead me away to the unknown. I was lucky that I didn't end up dead or worse. But it had worked out in my favor. I have been with Buck's crew for nearly three years now and I have never regretted my decision. New faces have come and went, but a few of us have stayed together and had each-others backs from the start. I turned out to be a natural with the bow and I flourished under Buck's training. I was soon the star of the show and at times people would wonder aloud if I was better than the Trick Shot himself. But I had too much respect for Buck to feed into those rumors. I may play the cocky teenage role when needed, but I was still humble underneath it all.

"Hey, wake up kid." Buck nudged me with the end of his bow. "You look like you're on a different planet right now."

"Yeah, sorry." I shook my head and scanned the little clearing. The sun was setting and for some reason a feeling of unease had settled on my shoulders. "Let's head back. It's almost show time."


	3. He's a Show Stopper

I know I've probably made my life sound pretty awesome at this point, but trust me it usually isn't. I guess it is time to share one of my darker secrets with you: my suit. I _hate_ my suit. I'm not talking about a stuffy tux or pant suit. I'm talking about a purple spandex contraption. I couldn't help but feel foolish as I stood looking at myself in the mirror, the offending piece of material clutching my body in all the wrong places. One of the first things that caught my eye in the mirror was my hair; I normally kept it on the shorter side, but it was starting to grow out and hang over my ears. Long hair most definitely did not suit me. It made me look like some kind of overgrown tween. I made a mental note to trim it before the next show, then turned my attention to the actual suit. It had been small when I got it several months ago (Buck had pawned it off of some gypsy) and I had done some growing since then. It clung to my chest and arms, threatening to rip apart. I wasn't like The Thing, but I was lean and toned. There, that's it; imagine one of those lean, muscular gymnast. Now shrink their spandex down two sizes, make the suit an offensive purple, and you have a pretty good picture of what I looked like on show days.

I heaved a sigh as I shoved my feet into a pair of combat boots that were a size too small and pulled on a black leather vest. In my head I had a vision of the perfect outfit for a master archer, and this was most definitely NOT it. If I had my way we'd be making some upgrades, but Buck was cheap and I was stuck with this thing until it fell apart. I slung my quiver over my shoulder and momentarily felt better; at least my weapons were high quality. That moment of feeling good was short lived though.

"You're a winner Barton." I muttered to myself. I ran a hand through my hair and reminded myself that the crowd probably didn't pay attention to my outfit since my shooting was so spectacular, but **_I_** noticed and that is all that mattered.

"Keep telling yourself that Bird Brain. Maybe one day it'll be true." I'd know that voice anywhere. I ground my teeth together and forced myself to turn and face the blob of a boy behind me.

"It's Hawkeye." I sneered at him. The boy in front of me infuriated me on a daily basis. He always had something stupid to say or do and I was almost always his target. He was bigger than me by large and probably outweighed me by a 100 pounds, but his brain suffered for it. He was a complete idiot. He amused himself by trying to pound on me, but I had the upper hand. He might've been big and strong, but I was fast and agile. I often outsmarted him and turned his own abuse back at him. Yet he kept coming back for more. One day he would probably get lucky and pummel me, but I figured I'd stay lucky for a while.

"Yeah, whatever. Like I care. At least I don't have to dress like _that_." He sneered at me, as if he had room to talk. His outfit was white leather with fringe. Even if I gained a 100 pounds and dressed in a tutu I wouldn't look as ridiculous was him. It was like someone stuffed an obese ape into an Elvis outfit. I had two options at this point: I could goad him, or I could be the bigger man and walk away. I went with the obvious answer.

"At least I don't look like an over-sized dump that Elvis made." I'll admit it, it was a weak comeback, but it had the desired effect. His face went red and the veins in his neck bulged. "Do you ever do anything other than blow yourself every night?" (Don't let your parents read that...he does blow himself out of the cannon...I am just tacky. Sorry...not sorry.)

"Shut up Barton!" He snapped at me and I thought the vein in his forehead was going to burst.

"Make me. _Eugene_." Now it was personal. Cannon made an inhumane sound and grabbed at me, but I spun out of his grasp with a smirk. "Come on tubby. You gotta be faster than that." He ran at me and I dodged again, my eyes picking out an escape route. I darted to the left before sprinting across the warm up tent, heading straight for another prop table. I jumped onto it and off the other side, grabbing onto a high bar. I flipped off of it and landed on one of the equipment trucks, crouching on the edge with a smug look. By time Cannon could lumber his way up here I'd be gone. We sat there eyeing each other and for the first time I noticed just how evil the look in his eye was. He growled at me, something that didn't even sound human, before lumbering off, muttering under his breath.

I waited a few minutes before hopping down, landing nimbly on the balls of my feet. "You don't have to goad him you know?" I spun around to find Buck staring at me, arms crossed. He was frowning, but he didn't look angry.

"What am I supposed to do? Let him pummel me? I'm not scared of him."

"No, but he could prove to be dangerous to you..." He trailed off, like there was more he wanted to say, but couldn't. I hated when he did that and it was something he tended to do a lot. Sometimes he would get this far away look in his eye, like he knew great secrets. I didn't know a lot about his past or his youth, but I felt like there was a big secret there that was waiting to burst out. And sometimes, as crazy as it was, I felt like that secret somehow involved me. I shook the crazy feeling of being in danger from my head, scowling at Buck.

"You don't think I could take him?"

"It's not that, I just..." Buck shook his head. "One day you'll understand. Anyways, show starts in ten minutes. You ready?"

"I guess." I grumbled. We walked across the warm up tent together and I retrieved my bow. "What else could go wrong today?" If only I had known.

.

.

.

I paced behind the big tent entrance, waiting for Buck to introduce me. The moon was high in the sky already and the air had turned chilly, which was unexpected. It was the middle of August and I shivering, wishing I had a windbreaker to pull over my fancy spandex. I notched an arrow and shot it into a nearby hay bale, startling a crow. He cawed at me and took off as the crowd erupted in applause; Cannon had just done what he does best; he had blown himself. That was always a crowd pleaser. (Ha...Sorry, I'll stop now.) I straightened my shoulders, adjusted my quiver, and plastered on my best smile. "AND NOW FOR THE MAN HIMSELF. THE AGILE, THE ACCURATE, THE INCREDIBLE HAWKEYEEE!" The crowd (little as it was) went wild as I jogged into the big tent, temporarily blinded by the flashing lights. I kept a smile plastered on my face as I entered the center of the ring, waving in different directions. It was all about pleasing the crowd; they paid the bills after-all.

Buck rambled off some more stuff about me being spectacular before stepping out of the ring and all eyes turned to me. The lights dimmed until I was standing in a circle of light, the rest of the tent dimly lit. I notched an arrow and took a deep breath, waiting. I heard the prop before it popped up; a wolfs head with glowing red eyes. It wasn't even fully erect before I had done a 180 and lodged an arrow in its forehead. Next a vulture came flying down at me from somewhere up above and I put on a show, rolling out of the way and coming up in a crouch. I planted an arrow in its neck and dodged another, dispatching it in a similar manner.

The props were cheap and if you payed attention you could see all the behind the scenes mechanics at work, but the people were more focused on my skills. I didn't know where the targets were going to come from or what I was going to face. My reaction was all instinctual. It's what made the show so real. I had performed hundreds of times, but it never got old. I never got tired of hearing the crowd shout my name or yell in awe at a tremendous shot. I wouldn't call myself arrogant, but I knew I was good and I knew they loved it.

My show went on for several minutes and I found myself really getting into it this time. I was trying out some new tricks and there were even some new props, some new attack points. I was really putting on a show this time and the crowd was loving it. I was running low on arrows when it happened. The light around me went out. I couldn't even see the faces of the crowd. I was alone in my circle of light. A prop started coming at me from the shadows. It was one I hadn't seen before, shaped like a man and moving more freely- it definitely wasn't one of the typical cardboard cut-outs. I tried to figure out how Buck could afford a nicer prop as I fired an arrow that should've pierced clean through the props heart. I was ready for the arrow to hit home, for the crowd to explode, but it ever happened. The arrow bounced off the prop and fell to the ground. I was stunned. My arrows were real. They were sharp. They would pierce metal.

I frowned and the crowd gasped; _Hawkeye_ had just missed a shot. THE Hawkeye. I tried to make sense of things when the prop seemed to fly across the darkness. It entered my circle of light and the crowd collectively gasped. I was so stunned that I nearly dropped my bow, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to make sense of things. A burly man the size of a grizzly bear stood in front of me, muscles and veins popping out all along his arms. His shoulders were as wide as three men standing together and he had at least three feet on me. I looked up into his face and finally dropped my bow. One eye stared back at me, one eye that I recognized. I knew the hatred in it, I knew the evilness. Cannon had just stolen my show.


	4. King of the Toilet

Have you ever saw a car wreck happen? It's like you see it, but you can't process it for the first few minutes; it takes you a minute to spring into action. That is how I felt as I stood staring at Cannon, my mind racing. Cannon stood in front of me, his crooked yellow teeth showing as his lips curled back in a sneer. He was looking at me like I would make a nice snack, but he should have known I would be too stringy. His one eye- my mind still hadn't processed that part- was glowering at me, and I could feel the hatred practically rolling off of him in waves.

"C-cannon?" I stuttered, trying not to sound like I was about to pee my pants, which I was. None of it made sense. The one eye, the arrow, the change of the show. What was going on? And why wasn't I informed?

"Cannon? Yes. I guess I was called that for a while." His voice was deeper and more evil than normal, which was almost impressive. He flexed his biceps, which were coiled with muscles, and a little toilet cannon tattoo rippled. "I am the Porcelain Projectile."

"The Shitter Spitter? How'd you get strapped with that?" I laughed in disbelief, partially at the name, partially at the situation I was in. "And what are you?" I tacked on the last part hastily as he glared at me through that one eye.

"Have you not guessed yet? Not so smart after all are you god-ling?"

"A rock is smarter than any stupid cyclops." Another brilliant comeback by yours truly. But the name rolled off of my tongue like it had been hiding away in the back of my mind somewhere waiting for me to make the connection, and as soon as I did something seemed to click. Cannon was a cyclops. Straight out of Greek mythology. Whattttt? I was very confused now. Had the chef laced my soup with magic mushrooms? Was this some kind of prank? Had I ate cheese that was too far expired?

"Clint!" Buck's voiced traveled across the pavilion and shook my out of my stupor. I barely had time to duck as he knocked an arrow and let it fly. I rolled to the side and knew where the arrow would land- it was going to be a headshot. Right before the arrow found Cannons eyes-no, eye- he swatted it aside with a laugh. The arrow left a small nick in his hand, but it hardly seemed to faze him.

"Puny godlings! Do you know how many of your kind I have feasted upon? Do you know how many of you that I have destroyed? I cannot be stopped. I was hand picked by-" At that point I was really tired of hearing Cannon talk. He had already been obnoxious before he was a monster, but now he was just downright unbearable. I kicked him in the shins, which in theory was a good idea. But in reality it was like kicking a truck. I stumbled backwards, my toes throbbing. The action cut off his tirade and I managed to stagger backwards as he smacked a meaty hand at me.

"Get back!" Buck demanded. I scrambled towards him, dodging a prop as Cannon picked it up and hurled it towards my head. Right before I reached Buck I spun around and knocked as arrow, letting it fly. It bounced off of his chest, but Cannon didn't even flinch.

"Your arrows won't hurt him!" Buck frowned. "Go on, run!"

"Why not?" I demanded.

"Only celestial bronze can hurt monsters like him. Your mortal weapon is useless!"

"Mortal weapon?" My mind was reeling and I made the mistake of forgetting Cannon was a raging beast.

"Watch out!" Buck pushed me aside and my world stopped spinning. Time seemed to be stuck in slow motion as Cannon snatched my arrow off the ground and hurled it back at us. It traveled end over and impaled Buck in the chest. If he hadn't had pushed me, that would have been me standing there.

"NO!" The cry of agony ripped out of me. "Buck!" I ran to his side as Cannon cackled and clapped his hands, ignoring us to gloat over his latest trick.

"Run. You have to run." Buck groaned and clasped a calloused hand on my shoulder. "They will help you…my book. In the tent. Go find them. Look for-"

"Enough!" Cannon practically materialized on top of us and crushed Buck with his oversized fist. I watched in horror, expecting a shower of blood to hit me, but instead Buck slowly dissolved into a wisp of golden smoke, simply floating away on an invisible breeze. "No more games. You are next!" He swung a fist at me and I rolled out of the way. I snatched Buck's bow and quiver off the ground, noticing that his arrows were different from mine. They were heavier, and the tips were made of a different material than mine. I scrambled backwards and tore across the arena, trying to by some time. I couldn't seem to grasp what was happening. It felt like everything should make sense, but it was just too far out of reach.

I stopped at the other side of the tent and turned to face Cannon. I had spent my entire life running away. I was tired of running. I was tired of losing the people I cared about. I took a stance and knocked an arrow, pulling the bow to full draw with a more of a struggle than usual. I felt the power in Buck's bow- it held a power that was beyond anything I had used before. It felt old and powerful, like when you pick up a fossil or an antique weapon. I waited, watching the monster in front of me. Cannon could knock my arrows aside, he was fast. But if I could time it just right…

I waited, counting the seconds as he ran towards me. Just before he blinked I released my arrow. The idea was to shoot him in the eye, but my arrow just lodged itself in his nose. He let loose a roar and yanked it out, blood streaming from his face. He hurled the arrow into the crowd and I really hoped that everyone had decided to leave already.

I ran to the other side of the tent once more, trying to buy myself some more time. All I had done was hurt him and piss him off. I took a shaky breath and turned to face the rapidly approaching Cannon. He was done toying with me- this was the round that would end it. I stood my ground as he charged, watching, waiting. "One…two…three…" Right before he blinked I let my arrow fly. "Please," I prayed to no one in particular. I felt like there had to be something- someone- out there who cared enough to hear me. They must have, because my arrow found its mark.

Cannon stopped dead in his tracks and bellowed in pain, falling to his knees. I stood frozen where I was, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Cannon began dissolving from the ground up, slowly crumbling to yellow ash that drifted to the ground. When he had fully dissolved, the dust melted into the ground, leaving behind…an eyeball. I was going to be sick. I groaned as I moved closer, poking at it with my toe. It was solid as a rock- not like an eyeball should be. I frowned and picked it up.

Now I know what you are thinking, well, maybe. You are either thinking I am completely crazy, or you repulsed by the fact I just picked up an eyeball. If your thoughts are more towards the latter, let me reassure you- it wasn't an eyeball. It had turned into a glass sphere, like an oversized marble. I stood there gawking at it for a moment. It was size of a plate and had the same basic shape. It was flat, and a brown streak swirled through the center. I slipped it into my vest and shouldered Buck's bow, looking to where he fell, a thousand questions in my mind.

What had happened to Buck's body? Who had he wanted me to find? And more importantly, how was I supposed to find them? What had just happened? How had a cyclops been in the middle of New York? I was already feeling pretty miserable, but then a more devastating thought occurred to me: Where were my other comrades? Everyone but Buck, including the audience, had seemed to vanish. With a sinking feeling in my gut, I made my way towards the tent's backstage entrance, determined to find some answers.


	5. My best friend is a Tent

As soon as I stepped out of the big tent I knew something was wrong. It was quiet. And quiet was not in the list of traits for a traveling circus. Camp, at least what was left of it, was like a ghost town. Most of the tents had been taken down and all of the animals were gone, their cages empty and abandoned. A lot of the equipment trucks had pulled out and there were signs of a hasty retreat in every direction. I wondered if they had been attacked like me, or if they had fled once the commotion started. I looked around for anyone who might've been hurt or left behind, but found nothing. I was alone. And for the first time ever I was not enjoying the feeling.

I slowly made my way towards the outer edge of what once was our camp, taking in all the little details as I went; a forgotten bag here, a half-eaten hot dog there, a fire that was still burning. None of this had been planned. I stopped to put the fire out and grabbed the hot dog- who knew when I would have a decent meal again. The hot dog was rubbery and I gnawed on it as I tried to organize some of the thoughts in my head. Why hadn't Buck seemed surprised about the Cyclops? Even more importantly, why had he known how to kill it? Why did he have weapons like that? I pulled one of the arrows from his quiver and examined the end, my brown creasing.

The end of it had thick feathers unlike any I had ever seen, yet they still seemed weightless. They were a pure white and looked like they could withstand many uses. The shafts of the arrows appeared to be hand carved and there wasn't a flaw to be found on the smooth wooden surface. The arrow head was the most interesting part though. The metallic tip glinted in the sunlight like a bronze statue. The material was denser than my steel arrow heads, but somehow it felt lighter. "Celestial Bronze." That is what Buck had called it. I felt like I knew the words, like I had read about them somewhere. I thought on it a moment and suddenly the answer sprang out of the depths of my mind.

The Greeks were big fans of Celestial Bronze. Many of their weapons and artifacts were crafted from the material. Its origins could be traced back to the Greek gods and it was a craft that was ancient- it had died out a long time ago. So why was Buck carrying around arrows made out of the stuff? And even more importantly, why could they kill Cannon when my arrows couldn't?

My head was pounding by time I reached Buck's tent. As I stood in front of it I felt a sense of unease and anxiety. There had always been a lot of rumors about Buck, but the ones about his tent held some truth: You didn't go in it. Stories ranged from people being kicked out for trying to someone being killed for going inside. I never put much stock into the murder, but the stories were enough to keep most people, myself included, from ever trying to go inside. Buck never invited anyone in either. It was like the camp's biggest mystery.

I took a deep breath and eyed the tent wearily. It was made out of a white canvas material, but it wasn't like everyone's little camping tents. No, Buck's tent was more like the pavilion tent's that general's and commanders owned. It stood on four poles that were erected in a square and it had a golden drape around the top. It looked rather regal and out of place amongst the remaining scrappy tents that were around it.

I pushed my unease aside and pulled back one of the entrance flaps, not sure what to expect. I stepped inside and let it fall close behind me, not sure what to expect. Part of me had expected to find a bunch of props or books, maybe even some archery equipment, but I wasn't even close. A small arsenal was laid out before me with everything from swords to clubs to bows all hanging on racks set up around the tent. There were spears and shields, even a helmet and a chest plate; all of it was made from the celestial bronze. Among the weapon racks there were also bookshelves which held ancient looking books whose titles didn't appear to be in English. There was a small desk set off to the side covered in scrolls, which baffled me.

I frowned as I wondered why Buck would have such an odd assortment of things. Since when was Buck into history? All he cared about was making money, running his crew, and practicing his archery. What use would he have with swords and scrolls? And speaking of the swords, what was with all the weapons? He could have armed a small militia with everything that was in here. Part of me was fascinated by it all and the other was very disappointed; apparently I hadn't known my mentor at all, and now he was gone. I couldn't bring myself to think that he was dead…not with the smoke and the whole dissolving bit. Something wasn't right there and I just wasn't sure what had happened. Maybe I was in denial and he really was dead, but something in my brain just wouldn't accept that he was gone for good.

"Focus Barton." I rubbed at my eyes and walked over to the desk. I picked up a scroll and flattened it out, struggling to read it. It took me a minute to realize that it wasn't even in English. I made a sound and tossed it aside, trying another. This one was in English, but part of the ink had been washed away and only a few lines were still visible. I started reading, my heart hammering in my chest.

"Buck, I am sorry about my delayed response. The summer session is in full swing and we have been rather busy around here. After reading over your concerns, I believe it is best to make haste to camp. If you are right and the ancients are stirring, then we need to discuss at once. As far as the boy is concerned, you might be right. He definitely sounds like a godling. If this is the boy that you were sent to find, then- "the print smudged and blurred. I dropped the scroll as if it were on fire and stared at it. The boy? As in me? Godling? Why would Buck be writing anyone about me? And what camp? This was camp. I ran a hand through my head and felt like sobbing; I was so confused. I looked down at the abandoned scroll and that's when I realized that it wasn't in English. The letters were Greek…and I had just read them without even trying.

I took a step back, my world reeling. What was happening? Was I going crazy? Had I suffered some kind of psychotic break? I started frantically digging through the other scrolls, desperate to find anything. I didn't know what I was looking for, I just knew I had to find something. I yanked a random scroll loose and my answer was lying at the bottom of the page. The scroll had been mostly burnt, but a few worlds were still readable towards the bottom. "Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Long Island, New York." Camp Half-Blood…that had to be what Buck had been talking about. Or maybe I was just desperate enough for something to hold on to that my mind made the two connect. But it was a start, it was something to grasp on to. I was going to Camp Half-Blood

. . . .

I know you are probably going to think that I am crazy and you can go ahead and call me stupid, but I decided to spend the night at camp. I was still shaken from the things that had happened a few hours earlier and I wasn't very eager to go running off into the darkness towards some unknown place. Plus, I was longing for a little bit of comfort and I knew that my old beat up tent could provide it. I figured Cannon wasn't going to magically reappear anytime soon, and I knew the locals would avoid this place like the plague- to them it was just a hobo camp.

Before I left Buck's tent something in my gut told me I had better take advantage of the items around me. I could almost hear Buck telling me that I had better be prepared. I grabbed one of the bronze plate bodies and found that it was lighter than I had thought- it would still suck to run around in, but it would offer some protection at least. I restocked Buck's quiver to the brim with the celestial bronze arrows and strapped a small bronze knife to my waist. I grabbed an empty backpack that was a good size larger than mine and put an empty water flask and a rolled up map inside. I scanned the tent for anything else I might need, but found that anything else would just slow me down.

I took one last look around the tent before stepping outside into the cool night air, the hair on my arms standing on end. I made me way across the camp grounds, which was significantly easier now that most of the tents were gone. I found my tent where I had left it, erect and unharmed…well, as unharmed as it had been. The thing was ratty and several years old, and if it rained I had to put a bucket underneath a hole in the top. But other than that it was alright. It kept the wind off of me and it was a place I could go to get out of the soon. I ducked inside and breathed in the familiar smell of must and 'hobo'.

I stood in the middle of my tent looking at my small stash of belongings, wondering what I should take with me. I felt a pang of guilt as I realized that I would have to leave the tent behind. It was too bulky to carry and if I took it down again there was a good chance that it would fall apart. I would definitely be taking my sleeping bag; I figured it would take me a couple of days to find the place I was looking for and it was starting to get pretty chilly at night.

I gathered a few other essentials; a toothbrush, a flashlight, the only change of clothes that I owned, a few granola bars that I had stolen from Cannon, and a few bottles of water. I arranged them all inside the backpack that I had taken from Bucks tent and set it by the exit flap, along with the bronze plate body that I had taken. I arranged my bow and quiver to be within easy access and stretched out across the floor, staring at the ceiling. I slipped the scorched scroll from my pocket and looked at the words again, Camp Half-Blood burning into my mind. I didn't know what I would find or how I would find it, but I knew I had to. Something in my gut told me that I would find all the answers I needed there.

With the happy thoughts of cyclops and monsters crawling through my mind I closed my eyes, shivering. I wasn't cold, but I was shaken. The adrenaline had worn off and I was mentally broken. I had witnessed my mentor dying before my very eyes. I watched a comrade (even though I hated Cannon he had been a big part of my life for several years) turn into a raging monster. Growing up on the streets you hear a lot of stories and Greek Mythology was a hot topic amongst homeless people. Some of them were crazy enough to believe in those stories, but I always thought they just used it to explain why their lives were so crappy. But now those stories seemed to be coming to life, dragging me into some sort of world where I didn't belong. I didn't know what was happening or why it was happening to me, but I knew I had to find some answers. Because if I hadn't already gone crazy it was going to be a short trip to get there.


	6. When Things Donut Go Your Way

I wish I could say that I had a good night's rest. That I was so exhausted that I slept like a rock and woke refreshed, ready to tackle the day, the problems of yesterday behind me. That is always how heroes wake up in their stories, right? Well, I guess I wasn't a hero. I woke up with a pounding headache and a sense of nausea. I had all kinds of bad dreams the night before and none of them came close to being helpful. I had a crick in my neck and my right hand was still asleep, the palm tingling anytime I moved my fingers. I was pretty sure I had drooled all night and I still had some on my chin; real hero like huh?

I forced myself into a sitting position and groaned, one of the dreams forcing its way back into my mind. Most of my dreams had been about my parents, Barney, or Buck. But the last dream that I had…it just didn't sit well. I felt goose bumps pop up along my arms as I thought about that dream, trying to make sense of it.

I was surrounded by a group of people and we were standing out in a field of sorts. I didn't recognize the place or anyone around me. A girl was standing in front of me, her arms crossed and her green eyes flaring. I got the feeling we were arguing, but I couldn't make sense of anything we were saying. It was like trying to listen to the adults on an old Charlie Brown episode. She flicked a wisp of red hair out of her face and took a step towards me and I got the feeling she could kick my ass if she wanted to. I yelled something at her and she yelled back. I flinched and she pointed towards a hill in the distance. I shook my head adamantly and pointed the opposite direction towards a large blue house in the distance.

Thunder cracked overhead and our arguing died off. The people around us looked at each other nervously then to the sky. They were obviously worried about something. Someone gasped and we spun around as a young boy literally dropped to the ground. I dropped down beside him and shook his arm, but there was no response. We watched as he began to turn pale and then he literally began fading until he dissolved into a cloud of smoke. The smoke floated away and disappeared in the air, just like Buck had. The girl turned to me and gave me a shove and I woke up with the feeling that I was falling.

My heart was still pounding and my hands were shaking. I couldn't figure out where the dream had come from, or what it was even about, but somehow I felt it was important. Maybe Buck had been on my mind and I was just making up a story to give myself hope. Or maybe I really was going crazy. I was beginning to wander what would happen to me if I left this place. Would I be captured and end up in the looney bin? Would I be just another homeless person who finally cracked under the stress.

I rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands, groaning, wishing I could stop all the thoughts in my head for just a minute. I know that sounds odd, but my mind was going ninety miles an hour, but I was still stuck in first gear. I decided the best thing to do was just to get moving; sitting here and wallowing in my problems definitely wasn't going to solve anything. I pushed myself to my feet and stretched, regretting sleeping on the floor already. I pulled my toothbrush out of my bad and took care of the essentials; no use running for your life with bad breath or a full bladder.

Once I felt a little more human I stuffed the toothbrush back into my bag and slipped the bronze plate over my head. I used the little leather laces to secure it and slipped my quiver onto my back. I shouldered my bow and was pleased to find that I the plate body didn't inhibit any of my movement. I took a deep breath, accessing the situation. My load wasn't too heavy, but it was a good weight. I wasn't going to be running anywhere for long, nor was I going to be very stealthy. I looked like a pack mule with the quiver and backpacked strapped to my back. With that happy thought in mind I stepped out of the tent, squinting as the sun reached my eyes. I was surprised as I normally didn't sleep past dawn; it appeared to be at least nine outside.

I frowned and considered what direction I should set off in. I hadn't been able to find the camp on the map, but I had a pretty general idea of where it was. Long Island sound wasn't that hard to find. I needed to head towards Montauk, which meant I needed to head east. I hesitated before taking the first step of my journey, looking back at my tent. I said a silent goodbye to my last friend and turned my back to what once was my home. It was time to go find some answers.

.

.

.

In theory I should have been fine on my own. I had spent the majority of my childhood roaming the streets. I had learned how to survive with nothing but a pair of clothes and my wits. But my years in the group had softened me; I had become too comfortable. I was used to having a routine to when I would eat and sleep. I was used to knowing where I could sleep each night, where I could go when I wasn't feeling well. But now it was like I had run away all over again; I was tense and panicky. Every time someone looked at me I went on the defensive. My nerves were constantly on edge as I worried about someone recognizing me or calling the authorities. I was a long way from where I had originally came from, but that didn't help ease my fears. I had to keep reminding myself that the odds were in my favor. I was well on my way to becoming a man- I no longer looked like a twelve-year-old boy…at least that is what I kept telling myself.

The first half of my journey was relatively uneventful and I began to relax. I focused on the path before me, trudging along below the Montauk Highway. The sun had already peaked and was on its way back down. It was probably close to eight and I was beginning to feel hungry, the nutrients of the granola bars long gone. I was getting tired and I considered trying to hitch hike, but something told me that it probably wasn't the best idea. "Hey, sir? Could you give me a ride to the middle of nowhere? Yeah, just drop me off in that bunch of trees over there." See what I mean?

So I kept walking. And walking. And walking. I figured I was within an hour of the camp and I was beginning to feel anxious. I wanted this journey to be over. The further I walked the more uneasy I became; I felt as if someone was following me, watching me from some unknown place. I kept throwing looks over my shoulder, but I never saw anyone or anything.

"I would kill for a donut," I grumbled to myself as I pushed through a thick bit of bramble. I pulled the knife from my belt and found it was useful for cutting the tangled ivy and limbs away. I pushed my way through and was surprised to find myself standing at the back side of a donut store. I could see the neon sign glowing out front; a blobby green monster taking a bite out of a donut. The sign underneath read "Monster Donut." How original. I shook my head and dug around in my pocket, finding two dollar bills. I had won them in a bet with some guy a few weeks back and had been hanging on to them, but I figured this qualified as a special occasion.

Money in hand I made my way around to the front of the building and walked inside, a little bell ringing overhead. A burly guy was standing at the counter, his lazy eye trained on me. He was grinning, but it was the kind of grin that left you unsettled. He had on a white apron that was a little too small and a "kiss the chef" hat.

"Hot evening out there huh?" He spoke, startling me. I looked at him for a moment before dropping my gaze to the beautiful sight before me.

"Yes sir." I said absently as I practically drooled over all the donuts in the display case. I was pretty sure that my stomach was rumbling loud enough for him to hear. It didn't even phase my mind that a donut shop was open this late at night.

"We've got a special goin' on. Pretty slow out there. Buy 2 for a dollar. Everything is fresh." He winked at me and I frowned; the possibilities were endless. "I can recommend a few if you like."

"Surprise me. I'll take four."

"Good deal." He snapped up a pair of tongs and started pulling donuts from the case. He dropped four into a little bag and sat them on the counter by the register. I tried to hand him my money, but he shook his head. "It's on the house."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My treat. Glad to have you for dinner." That was weird. I forced a smile through my unease and walked outside, glad to be out of the weird little shop.

I stood there in the neon glow of the sign and pulled out a powdered donut. I took a big bite and groaned; the donut was delicious. I hadn't had anything but camp food for the last several years and their menu had not consisted of donuts. I took another big bite and that is when I heard it. It was a scuffling sound coming from behind the building, like a large dog going through a trash bag. I frowned and swallowed the wad of donut in my mouth, moving towards the back of the building. The guy instead had cut me a good deal so I figured the least I could do was save him some clean up.

I stepped around to the back of the building and froze, the donuts suddenly feeling like a bowling ball in my hand. There was something going through the trash, but it was most definitely not a dog. Its body was the size of a pickup truck with scaly green flesh adored with purple blotches. It had four legs that were as thick as trees and clawed feet. But that wasn't even the scary part. No, that would be the four trunk like necks that sprouted from the front of the monster's body. Each neck led to a triangular shaped head that had way too many teeth and a little forked tongue. I think the part that surprised me the most was the little bibs hanging around each neck that read "Daddy's Little Donut." This was Barney's inverted green and purple monster cousin.

Suddenly "glad to have you for dinner" made a lot more sense. I swallowed the scream rising in my throat and took a step backwards. The four heads snapped at each other as they argued over a garbage bag and I decided it was time to go. I tried to turn on my heel and sprint off, but luck was not on my side. I tripped and my donuts went flying, landing on the gravel with a little crunch. The monsters head snapped up and it trained its beady little eyes on me, sniffing the air. I scrambled to my feet and took off, mourning my lost donuts. I could feel the ground vibrating as the monster took off in pursuit, his claws digging in and flinging gravel everywhere.

Barney's cousin- let's name him Carney (see what I did there?)- was fast, but thankfully he wasn't very agile. I tore towards the trees, bobbing and weaving between trunks. The good news was that he couldn't fit between the trunks. The bad news is that he simply plowed them down as he ran. But it slowed him down just enough that I was able to stay ahead of him. I was heading away from the highway, which probably seems dumb, but I had a feeling that highway patrol wasn't going to be able to help me a whole lot. I reached a clearing and my instincts kicked in. I barely had time to duck as the monster roared and green bile flew over my head. It hit a "do not enter drain" sign on the other side of the clearing and literally melted it before my eyes.

I rolled to my feet and ran straight towards the concrete structure in front of me. My side slopped down and into a crevice, while the other side was a vertical concrete wall. A drain ran through that side, the exposed parts rusted red. The grate on the drain had caught some plastic bags and a teddy bear, but most of it had rotted away. The hole looked like it was big enough for me to fit through and I had to try something.

Carney yelled in rage as I scrambled down the little incline, disappearing from his sight. I shot across the short distance to the pipe and scrambled inside, ignoring the stench. My boots squished in a mixture of sludge, water, and trash as I stayed crouch, slowly moving through the pipe. It was dark, but I could see a dim light at the end. I made it through and hopped out on to dry land, thankfully for a more solid walking surface.

I stooped over, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding in my chest and the adrenaline was wearing off. My respite was short lived. I had nearly caught my breath with Carney appeared at the top of the concrete wall behind me, roaring triumphantly. I groaned and scrambled out of the way as a blob of acid hit the concrete, the material bubbling away. I made for the concrete slope in front of me and was about to scramble up it when I heard a loud "pop!"

Time seemed to freeze around me- Carney was stuck mid-roar, a blob of green bile stuck in his maw mid-spit. The surface in front of me bubbled black and seemed to eat away at the concrete until I was staring at a pure black rectangle. I frowned and took a step forward, reaching out to touch the surface. I had almost touched it when something flew out, colliding with me head on. I fell to the ground, my head hitting the concrete with a smack, and I groaned. My vision whirled as the pain ricocheted around my head like a bullet in a metal box. I struggled to my hands and knees, feeling nauseous and cold. I tried to crawl forward but stopped as a sharp pain sprung up underneath my chin. My double vision slowly focused and I found I was staring at a sword, which was conveniently placed under my chin.

My eyes moved up the blade and towards the owner. I stopped at her face, my heart hammering in my chest. I knew those eyes. I knew her face. I tried to speak, but I couldn't make a sound. She was scowling at me, a crease between her eyes, and I got the feeling that she knew me too. But we had never met, that I was sure of. She slowly lowered the tip of her sword and I staggered to my feet, my head still throbbing.

I slowly looked back at the monster who was still frozen in time, perched on the wall like an angry oversized mutated eagle. The trees weren't moving, a bird was frozen mid-flight, and the trickle of water from the pipe had stopped. But that wasn't even the alarming part. I looked back at the girl and took a step back as I began to panic. I really was going crazy. The girl in front of me was the girl from my dreams.


	7. My Dream Girl

I had run into the girl of my dreams, or rather she had run into me, and time was frozen. Sounds like the start of a romantic story, right? Well, you are wrong. As soon as I took a step back she whirled at me, pointing her sword under my chin again. I scowled at her, mind my reeling with pain and confusion. This girl was literally the girl I had dreamed about. Her red hair was slightly curly and her green eyes were flaring. She was about my height and appeared to be a little older. She had mud and grime all over her, just like she had in my dream.

I felt stupid standing there having a staring match while she held a sword under my chin. For some reason her air of arrogance was pissing me off; I felt like I was staring Cannon down. I had to do something, so naturally I went with my gut. I stepped back and whipped the knife out, throwing it up as the blade moved towards me again. My little blade deflected her sword down and I slammed the pommel down on her hand. The short sword clattered to the pavement and I kicked it away, thankful that I was wearing boots instead of flip flops- that would have been a vicious way to cut my toe nails. She stared at me in surprise and I smirked, but my victory was short lived.

The girl charged at me and was on me before I even had time to process it. She struck the knife from me with trained skill and I began fighting back, realizing that she could be a deadly opponent. She was surprisingly strong and I had to use everything in me to block the blows she was aiming at my head. I felt every blow to my forearms as I blocked her, felt every bruise as it began to form. I thought back to every fight I had ever been in and nothing even came close to this. I stopped thinking and started acting as some instinct deep within me took over.

My blocks became more solid, my timing more precise. I was no longer just preventing my demise; I was holding my own. As soon as I felt the slightest waiver in her attacks I went on the offensive. My leg struck out and caught her knee which made her stagger backwards. I aimed a bunch at her ribs and she barely deflected it, her eyes widening. I didn't necessarily want to hurt her, but I didn't want her to kill me either. I aimed another blow at her head and then swept my leg out, catching her in the back of the knees. She went down hard and I could tell the wind was knocked out of her. I scrambled to claim her sword and gently rested it under her chin, a triumph gleam in my eyes.

"Now then. How about we talk?" I tilted my head, daring her to try anything. Which in hindsight was extremely stupid; she could have easily taken me out if she had wanted to.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"Who are _you_?" I countered.

"I asked first."

"I've got the sword."

"I guess you have a point there." We stared at each other and I couldn't help but smile slightly. That was my kind of humor.

"Just a little bit." I took a step back and lowered the blade, letting the tip rest on the ground. I offered her my hand and she stared at me for a long moment before accepting the gesture. I pulled her to her feet and she frowned, studying me. "Here." I offered her the pommel of her sword and she took it slowly. For a moment I thought she was going to cut me down, but her stiff posture relaxed slightly and she finally sheathed the blade.

"I know you, yet I don't." She studied my face and I had to admit I was doing the same thing. It was like seeing a ghost; I knew she was there in front of me, yet I couldn't quite grasp it.

"Yeah, same here. Small world huh?" I scratched at my head where I had hit the ground; there was already a lump there. "So, uh, I'd love to exchange names and all that jazz, but I was kind of in the middle of running."

"What were you running- "her sentence died off as she spotted the monster for the first time. I swear she went so pale that it alarmed me. "By the gods, where'd you find a Hydra?"

"A hydra? You mean Barney's angry cousin?"

"Barney?" She gave me a confused look and then shook her head. "Why isn't he moving? What did you do?"

"Why are you accusing me? I didn't do anything! As a matter of fact, you did! As soon as that stupid black hole opened up time seemed to stop. It's been like that ever since."

"The black hole?...you mean the Labyrinth?"

"What is that?" I frowned.

"It's- never mind. We need to get moving. I don't know how long the-" her sentence died off as the Hydra suddenly seem to spring back to life. I barely had time to shove her to the ground as a column of acidic goodness flew past us and splattered a few yards away.

"Come on." I jerked her to her feet and we took off at a run, scrambling up the cement incline.

"Thanks." She managed shakily, drawing her sword as she ran.

"Don't mention it." I muttered as I snatched an arrow and knocked it to the string, pulling the bow back to full draw. "Keep going."

"What?"

"I, um. There is supposed to be a place up ahead. I am looking for it. Keep running."

"Are you crazy? He'll kill you."

"You might be surprised." I yanked her behind a large tree trunk. "If you aren't going to listen then at least stay put."

"Who died and made you king?"

"Oh, shut up!" I hissed and was surprised that she did just that. I took a deep breath and side stepped into the open. "Hey, barney boy!" That got the monsters attention. He roared and I let the arrow fly. It lodged in the roof of mouth number four and I'm sure if I could speak monster that I would have washed his mouth out with soap.

"Get back here." The girl hissed and jerked me back behind the trunk just as acid hit where I was standing. "That was impressive, but don't be an idiot."

"I had it handled."

"Oh, I am sure. Come on." She jerked me off to the left but I balked.

"I need to go north."

"I know what you are looking for. Or at least I have a pretty good idea. We need to go left. We have to get to the hill."

"What hill?"

"THE hill. Just trust me, okay? I think." She mumbled the last part but I heard her. For some reason my gut told me to trust her, so I followed her lead and fell into pace beside her. My life was starting to look like a bad movie and this was just the beginning.

.

.

.

It took us another twenty minutes to finally reach the spot that the girl was looking for. By time the hill came into sight my lungs felt like they were going to explode. My legs were on fire and I was dying for some answers to all the madness that was happening. Who was this girl? What was a hydra? Why was he hanging out behind a donut shop? I would have made the girl give me some answers, but I had a feeling that it wasn't the best time to try to ask questions.

We reached the base of the hill and suddenly every hair on my body seemed to stand on end. Something was on the other side, something that felt familiar. I could practically feel it radiating through the mound of earth. We started up the slope, but things went wrong fast. The grass was high and think. It slowed our progress and made it dangerous to move to fast, but we realized that too late. The girl let out a yelp as she fell and I could hear her ankle snapping from where I stood. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I dropped to her side, trying to pull her to her feet.

"Come on," I grunted, straining under her weight, my backpack, and the bronze breast plate.

"Just go." She shoved my hands away. "Get over the crest of the hill!"

"Like hell. We're going to finish this together."

"Why?" She demanded.

"Like hell if I know. Just because. I am not leaving you here." I stopped trying to lift her and instead spun on my heel. The Hydra had just broken through the tree line and he would be on us in no time. I drew an arrow and went to work, hailing arrow after arrow down upon the heads. It wasn't doing much damage, but it was slowing him down slightly, buying me time. Time that I didn't know how to use. What was I supposed to do? How could I beat this thing? I was just slowing down our deaths.

'The Hill.' I thought suddenly. My gut was telling me help was just over the horizon. I placed another arrow in one of the Hydra's beady eyes and then drew a deep breath. "HEY, ANYBODY! WE COULD USE SOME HELP UP HERE!" I yelled as loud as I good. The girls head snapped up in surprise. She struggled and managed to get to her feet and limped to my side, drawing her sword.

"We are screwed."

"Looks like it." I muttered, reaching for my last arrow. "The name is Clint."

"…Natasha." She said finally.

"Well, hi and bye." The Hydra descended upon us in that moment. I pushed Natasha aside and dodged one of the heads as it snapped at me, slapping my bow across its nose. I managed to drag Natasha up the hill a bit, but I couldn't move her and defend the both of us at the same time. I made the mistake of looking back and that is when it happened.

The hydra snapped at my leg and caught it before I could even register what happened. I felt pain unlike anything I had ever known before; I felt the pain of poison. I tried to scream but no sound would come out as I was whipped into the air, the other three heads snapping at me as the fourth tried to keep me away from the others. It was just a game to this beast. I was a mouse and he was the cat. My world shook as he slung me back and forth, my quiver and backpack falling to the ground somewhere below.

My neck strained from the forced of the force of being whipped about and I feared that my neck would snap at any moment. I heard a crack as my leg turned at too odd of an angle, but I could no longer feel anything below my waist. I began waving my bow around, desperate enough to try anything to stop the wild ride. By chance he ducked the head I was attached to lower than normal and I felt my bow snag his bib. That must have made things personal because he let loose a roar unlike any I had heard before. The good news that came from that was that he let me go. The bad news was that he let me go.

I soared through the air, up over the crest of the hill, tumbling end on end like a downed fighter jet. I caught glimpses of the things below me; a bunch of cabins in a horse shoe arrangement, some kind of coliseum, a pavilion with a roaring bonfire. None of it made sense to my poison fogged brain. But one thing was clear: I was about to die and I was angry about it. I had come so close to finding the answers I was looking for. I had come so far and gotten lucky so many times. But my luck was about to run out.

The ground rushed up at me and I had just resigned myself to death when a white blur shot past me and literally knocked me out of the sky. I landed in someone's lap, some kid with crazy blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was grinning at me like this was the best time of his life. He had on a chest plate over flannel pajamas, which seemed weird to me. I struggled to make sense of everything, struggled to process why the horse we were riding had wings. I felt my world fading fast and I groaned.

"This is like the coolest thing ever, right?" The kid laughed and we descended into a dive. My world started spinning and then I knew no more.


	8. Author Announcement

Hey everybody, just a quick little PSA! All the previous chapters have been re-written! Make sure you check them out and leave some feedback on what you think of them. I hope they are still satisfactory and hopefully better than the originals! Also, 1-2 new chapters will be posted weekly as of today. I know I slacked off with this fic, but I've missed working on it and I want to finish it. I hope I haven't lost everybody! Thanks for all the feedback so far and I hope to get some more! Next chapter should go up Tuesday or Wednesday. See you all then!


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